Their names were Glora and Malcolm Mergon; he was her father. They could make suckers out of anyone they wanted to; they could get into another guy’s mind and make him think, see, feel, hear anything they wanted him to. Take Extra Sensory Perception, and imagine somebody who’s perfected all of it—and that’s the way Glora and Malcolm Mergon were. Only more so.
We didn’t need visas; we didn’t have to go into the antiseptic wards; we didn’t have to be scanned. Every time we came into contact with Guards, or doctors or officers—those guys thought whatever Glora and Malcolm wanted them to think. So we walked right straight through all the red tape, and caught a sky-taxi to a sky-top hotel bordering Central Park West; by then it was noon of a nice spring day.
I sat there, sweating and feeling
